


A case study

by FancifulRivers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff, Girls Kissing, Kissing, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 16:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12486136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancifulRivers/pseuds/FancifulRivers
Summary: Hermione doesn't really understand her girlfriend, does she?





	A case study

You don't really understand your girlfriend.

You understand her more than you  _did_. You know that she likes to read the Quibbler upside down because her father puts in secret messages and sometimes whole articles that can only be read that way. You know she wears her radish earrings so much because she and her mum made them, and it's one of the ways she keeps her mum's memory alive. You know that she does believe in all the creatures she talks about, but she only talks about them so much because it annoys other people and it's one of the ways she gets a little bit of her own back.

You know it's not the Nargles who throw her shoes in the rafters and it's not the Wrackspurts who hide her Potions notes. You know that part of her dreamy, airy exterior is a front because the bullies in her year leave her alone if they think they won't get a reaction. You know her favourite food is pudding and that sometimes you have to make sure she actually eats anything else. You know that when you wrapped your scarf around her neck, in red and gold, it's one of the few clothing items she hexes to make sure no one can take it from her. (You secretly hex the rest of her belongings when she's not looking. When a few of her year mates complain to Madam Pomfrey with blistered hands, you're hard put not to laugh and have to fake a cough instead.)

You know that she likes the way you think. You know you still feel guilty for calling her Loony and acting like her way of thinking is wrong. She's just more open minded than you, and likes to think outside the box. Sometimes you think she doesn't even know where the box  _is_ , and you feel a little prickle of jealousy. You know that it's fun to study in the library with her and that she doesn't like to wander outside to play Quidditch like the boys do. She'll bring you books only tangentially related to the subjects you're researching and even though you complain sometimes, you like it, because it helps you learn new things. You always like to learn new things.

You know she likes having her hair brushed out. Sometimes you invite her to Gryffindor Tower (or she invites you into Ravenclaw, although that doesn't happen as often) and you'll both sit in front of the fireplace, sleeves rolled up, while you brush her hair, feeling the silky, dirty blonde strands between your fingers and enjoying the slight smile flitting about her face.

You know she feeds the thestrals in the forest- sometimes with Hagrid, sometimes on her own, although you like going with her now. Harry's gone with her before, too, but it's different with the two of you. It feels weird to have something invisible lip a piece of raw meat off your palm, but she has no fear. You know she's done this since first year, when Hagrid first introduced them to her, and you wonder how it must have felt to be a tiny eleven-year-old, staring at the carriages when she got off the train at creatures only she could see.

You don't understand why she likes you. You don't understand why she  _loves_ you. You don't understand why she first marched up to you just outside the Great Hall and asked, with solemn dignity, if you would like to go to Hogsmeade with her. (You don't understand why you said yes, but you're glad you did.) You don't understand the fizzy butterflies feeling that started in your stomach and bubbled up your throat the first time she held your hand, fingers carefully interlacing with yours.

Or the way you thought you might faint when her lips first touched yours in the courtyard, while the sun sank below the horizon and fluffy layers of snow accumulated on top of your bushy hair. (It was  _nothing_ like Viktor kissing you. Nothing at all.)

You don't understand any of it. But maybe, you think, as you make your way into the Great Hall and see her beaming at you, saving you a seat-

Maybe that doesn't matter.


End file.
